


Brilliant Disguise

by zeldadestry



Category: Twelfth Night - Shakespeare
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-03-02 12:58:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2812838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zeldadestry/pseuds/zeldadestry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The song takes over for her, like it sometimes does, like it was written for him, even though she didn’t know it until now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Brilliant Disguise

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kasuchi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kasuchi/gifts).



> Title from Springsteen, "Diamonds" lyrics from the song performed by Rihanna!  
> Kasuchi, I guess as written this is more a "singer-songwriter" au than a "rock band" one, but...hopefully you may feel like I do that this Viola and this Orsino are destined to form a kickass quintet with Antonio, Olivia, and Sebastian!

Sun’s already up and, though her weary body protests, it’s better if she moves on now. 

He’s not here, anyway. No one in town, no one she’s spoken to, has seen someone whose face looks almost exactly like hers, though his body be taller and broader, his voice deeper. 

Her bag’s already packed, she only takes out what she needs when she needs it and then puts it back in its place immediately after she’s finished with it. 

She stands, stretches her fingers like she could touch the nearest crack in the ceiling, yawns. 

She warms up her body first, letting the words of her voice teacher wash over her, like they’re practicing yoga together again. Lengthen up, lift your eyes, stretch the front of your body. Draw your arms back back back, letting your hips gently press forward, arching your strong spine. Release. Breathing. Belly out, belly in, belly out, belly in, imagine the breath reaching down deep into your body, all the way down to your toes. Folding, now, resting hands on the floor just in front of your feet. You’re a waterfall. Hidden away from the world like this, face pressed to your shins. When you’re ready to return, slowly, so slowly, belly gently drawing in towards your spine, uncurl, moment by moment, vertebrae by vertebrae, until you’ve returned to where you started, to standing. Twist to the right, twist to the left. Now, shake your head no, gently nod it yes, observe no tension in your neck or throat, jaw released, never clenched, lips slightly parted, like you’re always ready to start singing. At any moment, any time you feel it, you can let your voice go, release, clear and strong. 

She runs through her scales, never mechanically, never automatically, there’s always a feeling there, but these days it’s often so slight, pale, like she’s fading away. Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star. The one song she always sings, no matter how many times she’s practiced her warm up, exercised her voice, the first song she can ever remember learning, loving. “How I wonder what you are.”

She becomes aware of the echo in this empty house, like the ghost of her voice will stay here now, for as long as it takes for a family to move in again, to fill it with songs of their own.

Alright, alright, no more time for sentimental bs. Day’s schedule is simple, she has enough money left over from yesterday for breakfast, then she’ll sit outside the train station, playing and singing until she has enough money in her cup to pay for her ticket. Hopefully she’ll succeed before the last train of the day heads east. 

Time to go, Vi. There’s nothing for you here.

 

There’s a plaza, at the center of Illyria, and Viola sets herself up there, sitting on the edge of a fountain. She places her guitar across her thighs and begins to play. She plays for a long time but never feels like singing, even though the people strolling by or sitting at tables with their drinks of choice, coffee or wine, generously drop coins in her cup. 

Around midnight she notices a guy who’s taking a musical tour of the square, stopping in front of each group of performers to watch for a song or two before passing on to the next. He cheers loudly for each group and many of the musicians talk to him when they take their breaks, clapping him on the back like he’s a good friend. 

She’s tired from her day of travel and work, she’s already made enough money for a late meal and lodging for the night, but she keeps playing, waiting for his enthusiasm to reach her. 

He approaches the fountain last and, as he nears, her voice suddenly takes over, demands to be freed. 

“Find life in the beautiful sea, I choose to be happy. You and I, you and I will never die, we’re like diamonds in the sky.”

The song takes over for her, like it sometimes does, like it was written for him, even though she didn’t know it until now. And every note seems important, and by the time she sings her last “shine bright like a diamond”, she wouldn’t be surprised to wake up to the world again and find they were the only two people in it, like she’s sung them both into her own sweet dream. 

He doesn’t shout or whistle or pump his fist for her like he did for everybody else, he just stands there applauding like he’s never going to stop. 

She bows her head for a moment, acknowledging him. When she lifts her eyes again and stares at his open, beautiful face, she become acutely aware of her heartbeat, of her nerves lighting up all across her skin.

“Dude,” he says, moving closer. “That was fantastic.”

“Thank you.”

“Just awesome.” He sits down beside her on the lip of the fountain. “My friends give me a lot of shit- but a good song’s a good song, whether it’s pop or punk, you know? I tell them they’re missing out when they worry about labels.” He leans in towards her, bumps his shoulder against hers. “Did you write that?” She nods. “Wow. I would give- not anything- but a lot to be able to do that. A lot.” 

“Do you play?”

“Sure, sure, a little. Nothing like you. I love music, but I’m not so good at it myself. But I could listen- I could listen all day.” He grins at her. “Everybody needs an audience, right? I figure that’s my role to play.” 

“Hey, I think it’s a good one. Knowing someone else loves the song, too? There’s nothing better than that.”

He touches his chest. “I’m Orsino, by the way.”

She pauses before saying, “Cesario.” Viola is Sebastian’s sister and, until they are reunited, she hides herself away. Still, though this man is little more than a stranger, she does not like to feel she deceives him. 

“I haven’t seen you before. Do you live here?”

So easy to hear an invitation there: hey, how are you? How are you, really? Because I kind of wish you’d stay. Stay long enough for me to get to know you and vice versa. But it’s not her plan. This isn’t her place. “No,” she says, but hopes he understands that she wishes she could. “I’m just passing through.”

“That’s too bad,” he says, and his eyes locked on her tell her that he means it. “You staying with friends or something, while you’re here?”

“I don’t know where I’m staying. I just arrived today.”

“How long are you here?”

“Probably for a few days. Long as I can keep myself out of trouble.”

“Listen, you should- would you play a private show for someone for me?” 

“Someone?”

“Yeah,” he lets out a long breath. “There’s this woman- Olivia- and that song you played? It’s exactly the kind of song I’d like to sing for her, if only I could make it sound like you did. I’d pay you, of course. I’d pay you much more than you could make in a day out here.” 

She should decline. This is a complication and, no matter how much she already likes him, it sounds as though he is bound to another. But he seems kind, and she could use a friend. Traveling alone, when she’s always had her brother as her companion before, has been lonely. “There is something I need, far more than any amount of money.”

“And what is that?”

“Help.”

He puts a hand between her shoulder blades. “With what?” 

“I am looking for my brother, my twin. I do not know- he may-” she swallows. This is why she so rarely speaks these days. Everything important she has to say can choke her. “There was an accident. We were separated, lost from each other. I do not know-”

“Hey, hey, it’s ok.” His hand moves soothingly in a slow circle. “I get it. I’m sorry. I’m sorry and I’ll do everything I can- I don’t want to sound like an asshole, but my family’s kind of a big deal around here, and I’ll do whatever I can, whatever it takes, to help you find him.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He pulls back, gives her a moment to calm down. “I’m still gonna pay you, though. Only seems fair.”

“Ok.” 

“So, let’s make this shit official.” He puts out his hand for her to shake. “Come on, what do you say? Gonna be my own personal troubadour, win me a heart I’ve got no chance of gaining on my own?” 

“If that’s what you really want.” It should be a promise to break her heart but somehow it doesn’t, because right now is only right now, and the parts they both play, the ends they seek, may shift, alter, before this story finishes. She holds on tight to his strong hand. “I’m all yours.”


End file.
